


Dad Jokes

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future, Future Fic, Humor, Mild Language, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy was goddamn hilarious, okay? He didn’t care how lame the delinquents thought he was. He was funny. He was. Or, in which Bellamy Blake assimilates so far into the role of ‘Dad’ that he starts telling jokes like one too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dad Jokes

“Bellamy! Can I go down to the river later today? I won’t be long,” Fox begged, tailing Bellamy as he wove in and out of the tents of Camp Jaha. He kicked at the metal scraps littering the ground with distaste before moving onward, Fox right on his heels.

“Sure, Fox. I’m going to send you off into the woods, alone and in the dead of winter.” The obvious sarcasm lacing his tone caused Fox to frown in annoyance. “Sounds like a great idea.” Bellamy strode into the mess hall and made his way towards the group of teenagers huddled in the corner, who immediately turned to him as he approached.

Fox, however, was not done arguing.

“Bellamy!” Fox whined, grabbing his arm and digging her heels into the ground. Bellamy pulled to a stop, but not before sighing heavily and rolling his eyes. “This is important. Clarke needs more seaweed and she asked  _me_ ,”—the pride in Fox’s eyes was so visible even Bellamy’s heart warmed to it—“to go get it.”

No matter how eager Fox was to prove herself, however, Bellamy remained impassive, crossing his arms and leveling his gaze with hers. The rest of the delinquents had crowded around the pair as they were arguing, but Bellamy did his best to ignore them. He stared at her for a few seconds, eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised in a practiced mask of disbelief.

“Clarke asked you,” he began, slowly and deliberately, “to go and trek three miles in the snow and ice for some goddamn seaweed?” Scoffing, Bellamy tossed a bag of rations to Harper, who he knew hadn’t eaten all day. “Yeah right. How gullible do you think I am?”

Fox huffed, blowing her hair out of her face. In that moment she looked so much like Octavia had whenever he would refuse to give her a piggyback ride, and Bellamy grinned at the thought. Teasing and laughing hadn’t always been a part of his relationship with the original one hundred, but now that it was his steps always held a bit more pomp in them, and his smiles warmed the chilly winter air.

“Bellamy!” Fox yelled, indignant and exasperated. Seeing her so petulant, and feeling the rest of the delinquents watch the scene with wide eyes, Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Come on! I’m serious!” A smile suddenly broke out across his face and before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth.

“Hi Serious. I’m Bellamy.”

Bellamy chuckled under his breath at his own joke, but the rest of the group just stared at him in stunned silence. Some of their faces were twisted in horror.

Fox blinked at him for several seconds, mouth open slightly in shock. Then, her eyebrows furrowed and she crossed her arms across her chest.

“What,” she barked. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Now, ordinarily, Bellamy was a pretty clever guy. He had a great sense of humor, if he had to say so himself; it wasn’t his fault that his jokes went over the kids’ heads.

“You said ‘I’m serious’,” he tried to explain. “So I said—“

“I know what you said,” Fox cut him off, shaking her head and pressing it into the palm of her hand. She sighed, loud and dramatic. “God, Bellamy. You’re literally so embarrassing right now. I’m going to go find Clarke.” She spun on her heel and marched off towards the med bay.

Bellamy turned towards the rest of the delinquents, who were still staring at him in utter silence.

“What?” he asked brusquely, lowering his head to send them all a stern glare. No one responded.

“Did he really just say that?” Monty whispered to Jasper. Jasper shook his head in wonder.

“I don’t know man,” he replied. “My dad said that to me once when I was ten. He thought he was being funny.”

“Dude. Your dad sounds super lame.” Jasper simply hummed in agreement.

Bellamy huffed, glowering at the teenagers as they broke into giggles and whispers.

 _Not funny my ass_ , he fumed as he stormed out of the mess hall.

* * *

 

Clarke sank her teeth into the jaguar meat, fresh from that morning’s hunt. The sun had finally set, and she hummed a light tune as she made her way to the campfire, taking her spot next to Bellamy while he whittled away at a piece of wood. Around them, the delinquents were gossiping and laughing, and Jasper had launched into a dramatic tale the moment Clarke had sat down. Listening for a moment, she grinned as she recognized the over exaggerated beginning of the hallucinogenic nuts story. Eventually her eyes settled on Bellamy. He was watching the delinquents through the edge of his gaze, a small smile dancing across his face. She watched the light of the fire cast shadows against his cheekbones and flicker against his sharp jaw. His sharp, slightly scruffy jaw.

“The stubble’s new,” Clarke pointed out, nudging him with her shoulder as she pulled a piece of meat off with her fingers. Bellamy nodded and tilted his head slightly, giving her a sideways glance before eyeing the food in her hands. Rolling her eyes at his very obvious question, Clarke handed him her meat and pulled the knife out from between his long fingers. Nodding again in thanks, he tore a chunk off with his teeth and closed his eyes as he relished the taste.

“What, are you trying to grow a beard?” She asked as he chewed, and Bellamy cheeks crinkled up in amusement.

He swallowed and shook his head. Suddenly, a delighted smirk curled across his face, as if he had just come up with a great idea.

“Nah. Actually, I’d never been a fan of facial hair,” he began, stopping to gauge her reaction. She just watched him, eyebrow raised in impatience. “But then,” Bellamy paused once again, his grin growing impossibly wider, “it started to grow on me.”

Bellamy stared at Clarke expectantly, clearly waiting for her to burst out into peals of laughter. Pride shone clear in his eyes, and Clarke realized that he whole heartedly believed that what he’d said was downright hilarious. She had absolutely no idea what to say. Forehead creased in bewilderment, she stared at him. _Did he really just…?_

Miller decided to voice her thoughts.

“Did you really just—“ he started, groaning as if her were in actual, physical pain.

“What?” Bellamy scowled, affronted. The rest of the delinquents looked back at him, wholly unamused. “It was funny!”

A chorus of “no way in hell” and “definitely not” and “not on your fucking life” followed his statement. Bellamy folded his arms across his chest, eyes glowing and insistent.

“Yes it was!”

“Bell,” Octavia called out, leaning over to whack her brother on the back of the head. “Don’t ever say anything like that again. That was just awful.” Bellamy growled, ducking down and swatting Octavia’s hand away.

“Shut up, O,” he grumbled before turning to face Clarke. His eyes seemed to beg for her support, but Clarke just shook her head in remorse.

“Sorry, Bellamy,” she said, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder in consolation. “But, no. It was kind of terrible.” Shoving the slice of meat back at Clarke, Bellamy surged out of his seat, all the while glaring at the delinquents around him.

“Whatever. I don’t need this,” he growled, grabbing his knife out of Clarke’s hand and marching off towards the tents.

“Man, what a grump,” Harper complained. The rest of the group laughed in agreement.

“Well, he is practically an old man,” Raven joked as she tightened the straps of her brace. “What did you expect?”

* * *

“Hey, Bellamy?” Clarke called out as her silhouette became clear in the morning mist, her voice soft and unassuming. “Can I talk to you?” She sounded like she was trying to calm a wounded animal.

Bellamy snorted.

“What do you want, Princess?”

For the record, Bellamy Blake was _not_ brooding. So what if he was in the middle of the woods, throwing a knife at a tree over and over again? It was just a little exercise. And so what if the kids had yelled at him for making a pun about what the forest ‘wood’ and ‘woodn’t’ do? He thought he was fucking hilarious, and that’s all that mattered.

He rammed his knife into the bark of a nearby tree. Clarke winced.

“Just hear me out, okay?” she asked, waiting for his grudging nod of conformation before continuing. “Bellamy, you’ve got to stop with these jokes.” Bellamy rolled his eyes, scuffing his boot along the packed dirt.

Turning to face Clarke, he folded his arms and stared at her, his gaze as intense as it had always been. “What is this,” he asked. “Some kind of intervention?” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Come on, be serious here.”

“I am serious.” The ghosts of a smile flickered across Bellamy’s face as he completed the joke in his head, but it quickly dropped. He didn’t care what anyone had to say. He knew he was funny. He was.

“Bellamy,” Clarke warned, knowing when one of his horrid jokes was about to arrive by the look on his face. He sighed, shuffling his feet and tossing the blade around in his hand.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll stop,” he agreed, grumbling in exasperation. “I just don’t see what the big deal is.” He threw his knife at the tree again. “They’re not that bad.”

“No. They really are.” Clarke strode forward, grabbing his arm and yanking him closer to her. “You’re embarrassing the kids. Keep it up and pretty soon they’ll start hanging out with their real parents instead of us.” Bellamy’s lips quirked. The look of annoyance on the parents’ faces when their kids had run off to ask him or Clarke for advice proved to be a constant source of amusement for Bellamy, and Clarke undoubtedly knew this.

He reached out, squeezing Clarke’s elbow in silent thanks for lightening his mood.

“Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll try to stop.”

“Good,” Clarke hummed, patting his arm before turning to head back to camp. At that moment, the mist that had been curling through the forest disappeared, and bright rays of sunshine fragmented through the canopy.

“Wow. It got bright quickly,” Clarke commented, waiting for Bellamy to grab his knife and step in line with her for their trek back.

“Yeah,” Bellamy agreed as they picked their way over rows of gnarled tree roots. “I was wondering where the sun had gone.” He smirked, unable to resist. “I guess it finally dawned on me.”

There was an absolute silence, broken only by the chirping of the birds, and then—

“Bellamy! What did we just talk about?”

“Yeah, yeah. Last time, I promise.”

He never did stop.

* * *

“Bellamy? You in here?” Clarke asked from the outside of their tent.

“Yeah. I’m inside,” he called out over his shoulder, smoothing down a map of the new Grounder village they had encountered the week earlier. Pushing the heavy tarp of the tent aside, Clarke shuffled into view, and Bellamy turned to look at her.

She held a torchlight in her hand, and the glow of it cast shadows across the bridge of her nose. She seemed tired and ready to drop.

Five years on the ground had changed Clarke beyond belief. There were nothing but hard lines and rigid jaws where once wonder and happiness lay. While her shoulders stood tall with pride, scratches and bruises wound down her body in rivers. She had a scar on her stomach from Dax’s rifle all those years ago—Bellamy has seen it, how twisted and awful it was—and her once straight blonde locks now hung across her shoulders in a messy disarray.

Some days Bellamy found it hard to believe that Clarke had been so young and innocent five years ago. He found it even harder to believe that five years ago he had hated her very existence.

But then again, they hadn’t been sharing a bed back then, had they?

Bellamy smirked at Clarke, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his body. Pressing a kiss to the corner of her jaw, Bellamy crowded her against their makeshift mattress of leaves and animal furs. Noticing the expression on Clarke’s face, he paused to get a good look at her. Her mouth was set in a line of apprehension, and anxiety twisted across her face.

“What?” he asked, cupping her chin in the palm of his hand. “What is it?” _Was someone hurt? Had a gun backfired again?_

Noticing the rising panic on his face, Clarke jumped forward, pressing her fingers into his biceps.

“No! No. No one’s hurt,” she soothed, moving her hands up to rub at his shoulders. She hesitated for a moment before continuing to speak. “I do have to tell you something, though.” Bellamy nodded, urging her to continue.

Pushing him down to sit on the bed, Clarke bent down to lock her gaze with Bellamy’s.

“You need to keep a level head about this, okay? Don’t freak out.” Bellamy simply stared at her, eyes sober and worried.

Clarke let out a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

He blinked.

“You’re…?”

“Pregnant. Yeah.” Bellamy didn’t respond for a few moment, and Clarke twisted her fingers together nervously.

“Wow,” he finally breathed out, his hands instinctively reaching out to grab Clarke’s shirt. Bunching it up against her waist, Bellamy stared at her stomach. It didn’t look any different than it usually did. Dax’s scar still marred her skin, and she didn’t look bigger at all. _Well_ , Bellamy thought to himself, _it had taken a while for Mom to start showing too._

“I know we haven’t had a lot of pregnancies on Earth,” Clarke rambled, clearly worried by Bellamy’s uncharacteristic silence. “But I’ll be fine. I can do this, and everything will be okay.” Clarke’s voice rose higher and higher in pitch, and her breathing grew ragged. “We’ve got my mom to help us through it, and—“

“Clarke. Stop,” Bellamy cut her off, tilting his head up to look at her. He beamed at her, lips curving in delight, and Clarke’s shoulders loosened. Smiling softly, she ran her fingers through his black curls.

“You’re pregnant?” Bellamy asked again. He needed to hear it one more time, craved the words like oxygen.

“Yeah,” Clarke laughed, brushing her thumb against his cheek. “I’m pregnant.”

She giggled as he pressed his nose into her stomach, brushing it from side to side.

“Hi pregnant,” he whispered, pressing a kiss right above Clarke’s belly button. “I’m dad.”

“Oh my god, Bellamy. Shut the hell up.”

Clarke was laughing though, and to Bellamy that was all that mattered.


End file.
